HYPNOSIS
by Dr.Fawkes
Summary: AU [LilyJames] A race for power, a battle for revenge, political intrigue and a conspiracy against love...Read the story of a boy whose heart was broken and a girl whose spirit was enslaved, and how Destiny brought them together.
1. V' for Vendetta

'_**V' FOR VENDETTA**_

Severus Snape eyed the young woman in front of him with hooded, cautious eyes, inwardly marveling at the blinding sparkle of her beautiful face. He resented it; he resented the fact that she could single-handedly ignite the entire restaurant when he himself seemed like a wasted corpse beside her.

"Mr. Snape," she said after the first few customary moments of silence, taking a delicate sip of coffee. "I'm afraid I'm not in the habit of beating about the bush, so I'll get to the point straightaway. I have a job proposition for you."

Severus smiled in spite of himself. He liked frankness in a woman; it was so very rare these days.

"And why do you think me capable of this job offer? It is rather well-known throughout the wizarding world that I'm an unemployed pauper." he said, urged by a sudden drive to acquire a compliment from her.

She raised an elegant eyebrow at him, and said, "Professor Horace Slughorn is my mentor, and he was the one who suggested your name to me. He speaks very highly of you. He told me you are an exceptionally gifted potioneer."

"Too bad that the Ministry of Magic does not recognize me as such," said Severus bitterly.

If the woman had noticed the bitterness in his voice, she did not show it.

"I started a potion-making firm two years ago, called 'The Druid'. I cannot say that it is a very successful firm…on the contrary, it is a struggling firm. We are badly in need of recruits, and funds are hard to come by—"

"Are you Lily Evans, the daughter of _Archibald Evans_?" Severus interrupted her suddenly.

Lily stiffened perceptibly. "Yes," she said after a moment.

No wonder her name sounded so familiar.

"The Chairperson of the _Foxglove Apothecaries_?" Severus prodded her.

"The _ex-_Chairperson," Lily corrected him. "The _Foxglove Apothecaries_ was taken over by _Potter Pharmaceuticals_ ten years ago."

Severus felt a surge of anger wash over him. "It was not _taken over_ by Potter Pharmaceuticals, but _usurped illegally_, if I remember the Daily Prophet correctly."

Lily gave him a forced smile. "For big, influential people like the Potters, even an illegal Act in the _Wizengamot_ becomes a birthright."

"The Potters are good at that sort of thing," snarled Severus. "Stealing other people's rights, swindling the weak, robbing patents, coercion and blackmail, adulterated potions, fake medicines…The list is endless…and yet they manage to get away with it all."

"Stephen Potter has many useful contacts," said Lily.

_That was an understatement_, thought Severus.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did it happen?" asked Severus, feeling as if he was playing with fire. But he couldn't help it. His hatred for James Potter needed all the fuel it could get.

Lily eyed him with a carefully expressionless face. "I _do_ mind you asking about it; it is a rather personal matter."

"I'm sorry," mumbled Severus immediately.

"All the same," Lily continued, as if un-interrupted, "I will tell you my story, if you promise me that you will tell me _yours_."

"What makes you think that I've got a story to tell?" asked Severus with an amused glance at her.

"Mr. Snape," she said with an almost affectionate tone of voice. "Your hatred for the Potters is written all over your face. Its something we both have in common."

All his life, Severus had been used to bargaining with men and escaping scot-free from his side of the obligations. Yet, here was a woman who knew what she wanted, and here _he_ was ready to accept any terms that she could possibly name. He felt a terrifying hunger to know more about her.

"I'll give you more than a promise, Miss Evans," he said, after looking at her long enough to notice the stray feather on her collar. "I'll put my life on an open book before you."

"My father, Archibald Evans started Foxglove Apothecaries forty years ago," began Lily without further ado. "He did it all on his own, and his devotion to his work saw the firm rise to great heights. Within a decade, Foxglove became the leading potion-brewing firm of England. It was a bitter pill to swallow for Potter Pharmaceuticals, who up till then had monopolized the Potions market. Since they couldn't beat their rival—Foxglove-- in efficiency, they tried a new approach to the problem."

"And what approach was that?"

"Something that my father had not anticipated…. Something that he should have remembered," said Lily.

Severus waited with bated breath.

"Stephen Potter, trustee of Potter Pharmaceuticals, persuaded the Wizengamot to implement the _Wizarding Restriction Act_. The _Wizarding Restriction Act_ states clearly that only wizards and witches of proper wizarding background have the right to establish, own or manage any kind of business-firm in the wizarding world. This, of course, meant that anyone who cannot perform magic does not have the legal power to run a potion-manufacturing firm."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Severus Snape.

"My father was a squib, Mr. Snape," said Lily, and suddenly, her story began to make a lot of sense to him. "And squibs are a disgrace to the wizarding world; they cannot perform magic, you know. So, my father's business empire—which stretched over four countries and had a net value of ten million galleons---was snatched from him, and handed over to his rival, Potter Pharmaceuticals."

The injustice of it all struck Severus like a whip. He wondered what it might have been like to the Evans family…a millionaire five years ago, and bankrupt niggards now. And here he was, thinking that _he_ had been hard done by.

"It was my father's dying wish," continued Lily, "to rebuild Foxglove, and to make it even bigger than Potter Pharmaceuticals. And then, I too will take over what should have been mine today."

It was a lofty ambition, but somehow, Severus didn't think that it was impossible. He had a feeling that the woman sitting right in front of him could do anything she set her mind to.

"I wish to be an accomplice in this noble mission of yours," said Severus. "Even if you pay me but a knut."

Lily laughed, a laugh that was as beautiful as Augustus Rookwood had described it. "Your salary won't be much, Mr.Snape, but I hope we'll be able to remedy that soon. With enough profits from numerous small-scale projects, The Druid will be able to improvise on Worker Privileges."

Severus raised his wine to her in a toast. "To the success of our new firm…. And to your beauty, Miss Evans."

"Call me Lily, please," she said gently. She hadn't blushed; Severus supposed that she was used to being complimented about her beauty.

"Please don't think that you can brush off your part of the bargain, Severus. I still have to learn why a talented wizard like you is currently without work," she said, and he looked up at her in some shock.

"My story isn't as devastating as yours," he said, "but it is quite closely linked. …The heir of the Potter Empire, James Potter (considered by many as the 'most eligible bachelor in England'), used to study with me at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We hated each other….right from the first day we met. He was an egoistic, spoilt, arrogant boy and he seemed to believe that the rest of us were fated to be his slaves. I was one of the few who did not succumb to his tall claims. So, he tried incessantly to frame me for wrongs I did not commit, he insulted me at every turn of my life for being poor and ordinary-looking.…And he got away with it, because he happened to be a _Potter_. Since his is the _only_ Potion-making firm in England, I could not even find a job, despite recommendations from all of my Hogwarts Professors. He also forbade other companies from employing me, because I sued his firm in a court of law."

"And why did you sue his firm, Severus?"

"My father was a patient of Injunium, a disease whose only cure is the Dypraxium Potion manufactured by Potter Pharmaceuticals. My father died two years ago due to the Dypraxium Potion. It was a violet coloured bottle of adulterated, spurious medicine, and it was poison in disguise. My father did not last a second upon drinking it. I saw him dying, writhing and twisting in his bed, helpless with pain. I'm sure you know what it is like, to lose someone you love. You can imagine my rage and my desire for justice. I sued a case against Potter Pharmaceuticals, and it is quite obvious that I lost…. My life has been stagnant ever since then. And so today, I'm unemployed and I'm penniless."

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, and Severus could see that Lily's eyes were glistening with something that could only be tears. She seemed just as capable of emotion as of business. He decided he liked that sort of a trait in a woman. Both intelligent and compassionate, strong and soft…

"Who are the other employees of 'The Druid'?" asked Severus, wishing she would stop looking at him like that. He wasn't used to such kindness.

"You'll like them," said Lily. "They are very hard-working, friendly people. I've managed to rope in about five hundred workers, all thanks to the donations of my friends and loans of several banks. The Head Committee is constituted by three other people—Olivia McKinnon, Gilbert Evans (my Uncle) and Madame Arkadina. Olivia is a Trainee Healer at St. Mungo's, Uncle Gilbert is a Herbologist, while Madame Arkadina (we call her Marka) is an Alchemist. You'll be on the same Committee."

Severus nodded his head.

"By the way," said Lily, standing up suddenly, "I think you'd look better without that artificial goatee. I'll see you at 8 a.m. tomorrow, hopefully without it."

Severus watched her glide away, wondering again why he felt pleased rather than being resentful.

Lily Cecilia Evans often had that effect on people.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….


	2. The Edge of the Razor

_**THE EDGE OF THE RAZOR**_

In all the sixty years of her existence, Mrs. Virginia Stephen Potter had never encountered a more stubborn man. It was as if her nephew deliberately thwarted her wishes, just to see her cool, poised demeanor crumble to ash. She did not doubt this theory much; he had become rather sadistic, ever since his parents' death twelve years ago.

"For the last time, James'" she said wearily, "will you please tell me the reason you broke up with Priscilla Grant?"

"There was never the need of breaking up with Miss Grant," interrupted the nephew in a haughty, bored voice, "because I was never engaged to her in the first place. Miss Priscilla Grant happens to enjoy publicity, and I proved a useful tool."

Mrs. Potter felt a growing inclination to slap the boy; he seemed to have forgotten that Priscilla was her step-daughter from a previous marriage. She however restrained herself with admirable fortitude.

"This is not the first time that such a rumour has reached my ears," said Mrs. Potter. "In the past two months, you have also been linked with Donna rosier, Vera Zabini, Patricia MacNair and Sophie Pretzel. Allow me to say, my _dear_ nephew, that there is no smoke without fire."

"Perhaps," said James Potter, with a curt nod of his head, "but the fire has never been lighted by _me_."

Always the same answer….Would he ever learn to accept his responsibilities?

"May I remind you that you are eighteen years old, and you have already acquired the reputation of—of—being a—_playboy_?" she seethed at him with some difficulty.

James had the audacity to smirk. His aunt had wrung out the word "playboy" with such acrimony…. Perhaps she had been reminded of her own husband's unfaithfulness.

"The rumours do not affect me," said James, still smirking.

"They _would_ affect your chances of winning a sensible and lovely wife," said Mrs. Potter with a scowl, hating his wild, unruly hair even more than his empty hazel eyes.

"I'm not interested in women. I find women dull and boring," said James Potter. "And I'm definitely not interested in marriage. Not _now_, not _ever_."

Mrs. Potter so truly looked the shock she felt, that James Potter was immediately sorry for his hasty words. He would never be able to escape from her clutches now.

"Are you—are you—do you bend towards your _own_ gender, then?" she choked out, looking quite ill.

The laugh that escaped James was as cold as the rest of him.

"I'm not gay, Aunt Virginia, if that's what you meant," he said.

His aunt's sigh of relief was short-lived.

"I don't know why you should be so averse to women," she said, now quivering with indignation. "Or to marriage, for that matter. It is most unusual, and not to mention, extremely chauvinistic—"

"I'm not here for a lecture on the fairer sex," said James, standing up. "I have a meeting to attend; I must beg your leave."

"You sound more and more like your Uncle every day," she said, wondering what had become of the sweet, innocent boy she'd once known.

"I was merely repeating Uncle Stephen's words, Aunt Virginia," said her nephew in a tight voice, his hazel eyes hard and steely. "He believes in the same theory that love is but a joke. Perhaps your memory is failing you."

"One day you too will fall in love—" began Mrs. Potter, but her nephew's cold laugh cut across her words like a razor's sharp edge.

"And _you_ would know such a lot about love, wouldn't you, Aunt Virginia?" he said with a contemptuous sneer. "You, who wanted to send me to an orphanage when my parents died…. You, who were betrothed to my uncle in exchange for the textile mills in Lyon…. You, who have never _once_ been the Mother to me that you had promised to become…._You_ wish to teach me about _love_?"

Mrs. Virginia Stephen Potter turned away to hide her tears.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *


	3. Blue Blood

_**BLUE BLOOD**_

There was something about James Potter that positively reeked of blue blood. His sharp vivid features, his towering height, his royal hazel eyes, his lean rigid jaw and his aristocratic manners—the characteristic Potter traits—they had been passed down in legacy to him. They said the Potters were descendants of King William the Third. It could be true, you know. It was impossible to imagine James Potter anywhere _but_ in a palace.

This very James Potter was leaning against a giant oak tree in the backyard of his friend Peter Pettigrew's home.

It was hot and humid, but his face showed neither a single trace of a frown nor a single drop of perspiration. These things were beneath James Potter.

"Hey, James," Peter cried out to him. "Come and try some of these hot scones. They're fresh from the bakery!"

Remus Lupin kept aside his newspaper to accept one of the jam tarts offered to him by Peter.

"James seems to be very pensive today,' said Remus, combing a hand through his sandy brown hair. "He's been off in the ozone ever since he's arrived."

"He had a chat with _dear_ Aunt Virginia," said Sirius Black, who was reclining in the hammock in a very regal pose.

"What, _again_?" gasped Peter. "That's got to be the fifth time this week!"

"I suppose its Mrs. Potter's way of showing that she exists and cares about him," said Sirius with a scowl. Peter harrumphed.

"What did she have to say this time around?" asked Remus.

"Oh, nothing much!" said Sirius airily, "except that she thought he was growing into an exact replica of his Uncle, the _Honourable _Stephen Rodger Potter."

"She could not have given him a worse insult than that!" said Peter vehemently.

Remus looked around at James again, and observed his oddly blank, his expression-less face. He stood beneath the tree, as if he was waiting for something, as if he was greatly interested in the magpies twittering on the branch. But Remus knew better.

James was probably fuming that his Aunt Virginia had forgotten that today was his 20th birthday.

Remus often wondered who was more unfortunate between the two of them.

It was not too difficult a question.

Remus had been bitten by a werewolf in his early childhood, and all his life had been wasted away in fighting with this anathema. People who knew his secret shunned him and thought him a dangerous, wild monster. He could not stick to any job too long, because people did not like to employ a werewolf. Remus had had a very hard time, managing meager funds, living in broken-down shacks….Remus didn't know how he would have survived had it not been for the support of his loving parents and his three best friends.

On the other hand, there was James Potter… Son of a billionaire, owner of the largest estate in England, and who was definitely _not_ a werewolf…. And yet James had never known the love of his parents, like Remus had, for they had died in the _Dragonpox Plague (_when James had been barely eight years old) and had handed him over to his relatives' care.

James's relatives—his Uncle Stephen and his Aunt Virginia—did not care a Knut about him, to say the least. They were too busy handling the gigantic Potter estate entrusted to them by James's father, Henry Darius Potter.

They packed James off to Hogwarts when he turned eleven, and from then on, washed their hands off him. James had never gone home for his holidays, he had never received a single letter from home, and his guardians had never felt an iota of love for him. James fit the description of _'the poor little rich boy' _far too well for comfort.

Yes. Compared to James Potter, Remus Lupin often felt that he was a very lucky man indeed.

"Look at him," said Sirius bitterly, pointing his thumb at James. "Look at him! He's standing there as if he hasn't got a care in the whole damn world! He's pretending as if he's not at all affected by Aunt Virginia's lovely words, when actually, he's _bleeding_ on the inside!"

Remus thought that Sirius was being a bit too melodramatic, but then Sirius was the one who cared about James most deeply.

"Well," said Peter heatedly. "You _know _Prongs, Sirius. When has he ever showed any of his true emotions? When has he ever really disclosed what's going on his mind? When has he ever lost control of his feelings? When has he ever—"

"Yeah, yeah, Wormtail," said Sirius. "Take a breath, mate. Oxygen is free around here."

Peter went pink, but wisely abstained from commenting further on James's—what the Marauders had christened—'The Closed Clam Mode'.

"Done talking about me?" asked James, as he plopped into a chair beside Sirius. Remus gave him a sidelong glance, and could not help observing that James's smile seemed too hearty to be real.

"How do you plan to celebrate your birthday this year?" asked Remus, when James caught his eye.

"The same as usual," said James in a bored voice. "Spend some money on you three pests, tease Madam Rosamerta, get reported for vandalism, and then be reprimanded by Aunt Virginia again."

"If you really end up doing all that again," said Sirius dryly, "Rita Skeeter might dub it as a plea for attention."

James was in the act of shrugging his shoulders, when—

"Miss Rookwood!" he exclaimed, rising up from his chair at once, the thorough gentleman that he was.

_So, _this_ was Ursula Rookwood._

Remus had heard a lot about her, and nothing too nice either.

There were rumours about her having murdered a person and then some more about her having escaped from a mental asylum. There was also the fact that James had given her many unflattering epithets the first time he'd met her two years ago.

Now was the time to find out whether James had been right.

"Happy Birthday, James," said Ursula in a strangely eerie voice, that caused the hairs on Remus's neck to stand up. "I've brought you a lily."

James took the offered lily into his palm with a distinctly disgusted face. "How did you know it was my birthday today?" he asked her.

"Ursula always knows," said the raven-haired girl in that eerie voice of hers. "Ursula knows that you've turned twenty today. Ursula knows that you prefer coffee over tea. Ursula also knows that Sirius Black is making rude faces behind her back."

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin. He had been imitating, or rather, trying to imitate, Ursula's dull, lifeless expressions, and now his face was red with mortification. Peter couldn't help smiling.

"I—I—" began Sirius, but Ursula cut him off with an elegant wave of her hand.

"Never mind," she said. "Ursula is used to insensitive boorish louts like you."

"Er, really Miss Rookwood?" said James quickly, when he saw the shocked expression on Sirius's face. "These are my other two best friends—Remus…"

"Ursula has no wish to learn the names of the men who drive you away from her, James," interrupted Ursula, and Peter's jaw dropped open. "Ursula merely wanted to show you that her love for you stretches across the boundaries of time. Ursula wants to tell you that her love for you is even more beautiful than pain. That is all."

She turned away instantly, and was gone before any of the boys had time to digest what she'd just said.

"No wonder you call her _Ursula the Oddball_," said Sirius, still in a shock.

"I think she's a bit senile in the head," said Peter decisively.

Remus was very grave when he said, "You do realize, James, that she is in love with you?"

James graced Remus with an extremely ill-looking face. "Remus, you have no idea how that thought revolts me!"

"I wonder why she gave you a lily?" said Sirius. "Ursula Rookwood must have had an ulterior motive in doing so…. I remember old Mrs. Rookwood once telling me that she'd done a diploma in _Iconography and Symbology_…."

Remus and Peter burst out laughing, but James was much too disgruntled to join in.

He flung the lily to the ground contemptuously.  
"Oh, screw Ursula Rookwood the Misfit!" he said impatiently. "She'll sour us all! And on my birthday, too! Gah! Why don't you play us a song on your new _eklektik_ guitar, Sirius? You promised you would."

"_Electric_ guitar, James," corrected Sirius through gritted teeth. When would James learn to say it properly?

And Ursula Rookwood was soon forgotten.

Perhaps, far too soon.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *


	4. Sweet Poison

**_SWEET POISON_**

Lily Evans watched with amusement her friends' singed faces as they hurriedly cleared up the remains of the Exploding Solution.

"You can smirk _now_," said Madame Arkadina using a Cooling Charm on her smoking eyebrow, "but I'll have you know that you'll probably pay for it _later_. Won't she, Olivia?"

Olivia McKinnon was currently not feeling so charitable towards Exploding Solutions, so she merely shrugged her shoulder, and looked ruefully at her fire-scarred hands.

"How was the meeting with Fudge anyway?" asked Gilbert Evans, smoothing the grey hairs off his face. "Learn anything new?"

Cornelius Fudge was the Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes. And the grapevines had it that the Department was in severe shortage of health-care facilities for the Hit Wizards and Hit Witches of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad…which was why Lily had wished to meet Fudge, a wish that she heartily regretted now.

"Oh, nothing much," said Lily, still smirking. "Except that I've learnt that Mrs. Fudge likes to collect calendars, and that a flea can jump from a window in thirteen different ways."

Marka's raucous laughter was probably the loudest in the room.

"I wonder how the Ministry can employ buffoons like Fudge, and leave out geniuses like our dear Severus here," said Uncle Gilbert, looking fondly at Severus Snape across the room.

Severus looked up from his cauldron, and smiled back briefly at the dear old man.

"Oh, don't go underestimating Fudge like that," said Marka in a mock-serious voice. "You never know, he might become the Minister for Magic one day."

The room shook with laughter again.

"I hope I never live to see the day," said Lily with a shudder. "In the three hours I spent with Fudge, he told me nothing about the Death Eater attacks in Romania, but everything about the new bowler hat he'd bought! Apparently, he thinks women shouldn't be worried about the massacre of five hundred innocent muggles."

Silence. Then—

"Lily!" came a booming voice, "Lily, my girl!"

Many heavy, waddling footsteps and several loud sighs later, Professor Horace Slughorn walked into the room. It would be wise to add here that Slughorn resembled a walrus in so many ways, that he might have been mistaken for one, had he not been wearing his wizard's hat.

"Good Morning, Professor!" said Lily, as she was pecked on each cheek by her mentor.

"Good Morning, Good Morning," said Slughorn, shifting to shake hands with the others in the room. "Though I see nothing too good about the morning; it's been raining for two days now."

"My flat's on the ground floor," said Marka grumpily, "and its already covered knee-high in water. Thank Merlin that the headquarters of 'The Druid' isn't on the ground floor!"

"Well," huffed Slughorn, "it's certainly a chore climbing all these stairs. I think I've broken one of my ribs from sheer over-exertion." Olivia turned away to hide a smile.

"Severus, my boy, how are you doing?" asked Slughorn, patting Snape vigorously. Then he turned back towards Lily and said, "Isn't he a smashing Potioneer?"

"I couldn't have hoped for a better one," said Lily, smiling warmly.

"Would you like a drink, Horace?" asked Gilbert Evans.

"Oh, no, no, my friend," said Slughorn. 'I'm in a bit of a hurry this morning. I've come here only because I've a rather important piece of news to share…. Tell me, have you lot heard of **Morpheus's Mead**?"

"**Morpheus's Mead**?" repeated Snape frowning. "The potion that has been banned by the _Department of Lotions and Potions_? The one that had been used most extensively in the Dark Years of Grindelwald's siege over Eastern Europe?"

"The very same," said Slughorn heavily.

"It seems a really Dark potion, to have been used by Grindelwald himself…. What does it do?" asked Olivia worriedly.

"It works like the _Imperius Curse_, milder, but strong enough to make another person easily succumb to your whims and orders," said Slughorn.

There was a stunned horrified silence.

Slughorn was unusually grave as he explained his answer.

"A firm called _Bernhardt Breweries_ in Bulgaria has been reported to be exporting a large arsenal of toxic potions and hazardous chemicals. One of them is believed to be _Morpheus's Mead_. There is no actual proof of the report, but there have been many unexplained deaths and medical cases in the region, which are supposedly linked with the potion. For example, there has been an increased admission of patients in the Bulgarian hospitals -- a 67 per cent rise -- and these patients show the exact symptoms of a victim of _Morpheus's Mead_. The Healers there don't want to talk about it, but there is no denying that something extremely fishy is going on. I read about this in an article in _Potoscio Paradoxa_, and I think that Rita Skeeter can be trusted to have her _facts_ correct, even though her _opinions_ may be harebrained."

"But-but..." stuttered Olivia in horror. "Hasn't the potion been banned?"

"It has been banned by the British Ministry, not by the Bulgarian Ministry," said Snape darkly.

Olivia swallowed nervously.

"These peculiar symptoms of the potion," said Madame Arkadina, "can you name some of them?"

"Well," said Slughorn, "the victim usually drinks the potion unknowingly, so he finds it very hard to resist it... In the rare case that he _does_ try to do that, the resistance will be manifested as headaches, vomiting, waning of the appetite, fevers... And of course, the perpetrator of _Morpheus's Mead_ can make the victim do his bidding, which is a certainty grotesque enough."

Lily could not help shivering, something that Severus's keen dark eyes noticed at once. He also observed Olivia's pale face. Olivia got so perturbed with the slightest hint of the war growing outside. Not to mention that Olivia believed herself to be the only one vulnerable to attacks by headless axe men, lethifolds and Death Eaters.

"Does the potion have some characteristic ingredient?" asked Marka, looking pale and distraught. "We should be ready for --"

"I'm not aware of the ingredients used; I have never made such a potion," said Slughorn with a slight frown.

"I—I didn't…." began Marka, embarrassed, but Slughorn waved off her apologies with a ring-decked hand.

"I have heard rumours, however," said Slughorn, "that _Morpheus's Mead_ makes use of a plant called Venus Dew. Its essence is used to null the senses, and it is known by its heady fragrant smell. I have a strong hunch that the potion also makes use of a hair strand from the head of a Veela, and a unicorn's tail."

"Now, Lily," said Slughorn, taking her tiny hands in his own chubby ones, "this could be the chance you've been waiting for. Morpheus's Mead is flooding the city-godowns even now, playing with innocent lives anywhere…. And **this** is the time when 'The Druid' can achieve the success and fame it deserves…. By developing a cure or some preventive measure against Morpheus's Mead, 'The Druid' can make its own stand against 'Potter Pharmaceuticals'. Don't let this opportunity slip you by, Lily-girl...And now, I'll be off…. Dumbledore's invited me for a spot of breakfast. TraLaLa, then!"

Lily had slipped back into her tough business-woman mode even before Slughorn had closed shut the door. She was now pacing up and down the room.

"We'll have to find out more about the potion," said Lily. "And the only one who can help us is Augustus Rookwood. He works in the Department of Mysteries, and he also leads the Analytical Bureau of Investigation at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. He must surely know about _Morpheus's Mead_. What do you think, Uncle Gil?"

Uncle Gilbert took his time in replying. "Indeed…. But it will be very hard to contact Augustus," said he, "unless you contact him at the Ministry itself. And for that you'll need an entry-pass, which, as you know, is available only to Ministry workers—"

"—And to Healers," finished Olivia. "You can use my pass, Lily," she said.

"But if you're caught? What if someone finds out that I've been running around under your name? Won't you fall in trouble?" asked Lily.

"Oh, I'll manage," said Olivia airily. "You've helped me so many times, Lily. It's the least I can do for my sister's best friend!"

"I do hope Augustus will help us on this one," said Lily, rubbing her forehead tersely.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't mind helping the girl he is in love with," said Marka slyly, and was awarded with a glare from Lily.

Severus was so shocked that he dropped the ladle in his hands.

"Augustus Rookwood is NOT in love with me!" snapped Lily.

Madame Arkadina tossed her glossy black mane, and shrugged. "If you say so, Lily, dear," she said. "But don't think that we don't know you've been dating him for the past three months."

Lily flushed red with embarrassment. Severus could not help feeling a bit sorry for himself, although he did not really understand why.

"Ahem," coughed Uncle Gilbert. "Perhaps it is time I had a talk with Rita Skeeter. You know, give her a nice juicy bit about Mundungus Fletcher's ugly trade-secrets…. _Stuff_, you know."

"Mundungus Fletcher….hmmm…. Her _ex-_fiance, you mean?" asked Marka. "Oh, Skeeter would love to dig up his skeletons, especially now that Mundungus has been arrested on charges of illegal sale of magical herbs."

"Severus," said Lily, and Severus was jolted out of his self-pity session. "I would like you to research the matter; you know more about Morpheus' Mead than anyone else."

"Maybe he made one himself," muttered Olivia to herself, but looked away when she found Snape staring at her with a slightly hurt expression on his face. Had he heard her?

"Marka," said Lily, and Madame Arkadina turned towards her with expectant brown eyes. "I'd like you to find out all about '_Berhardt Breweries'_---their goodwill, their contacts, their medicines, their patients—everything. OK?"

Marka gave her a thumbs-up sign.

"Olivia, when does your morning-watch shift at the Hospital start?" asked Lily.

"At 11 a.m. today," said Olivia.

"Right," said Lily decisively. "We'll both leave together for St. Mungo's. You can get to your shift straightaway, while I'll go and talk to Augustus."

"_Dear _Augustus," said Marka, in what she considered a seductive, simpering voice.

Severus could not bring himself to join the others in laughing at Lily's embarrassment. He was afraid he might break something in the process. He kept his fists balled-up inside his pockets, and tried to remember what his real mission at 'The Druid' was.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**

* * *

**


	5. A Deal with Diablo

**_A DEAL WITH DIABLO _**

* * *

"Please wait here, Miss McKinnon," said the Secretary, as she offered a chair to the visitor. "Mr. Rookwood will be down in a minute." 

Miss Jenkins went back to her work desk in the adjoining room, and gave Lily the privacy that she needed.

The receptionist had been most suspicious when Lily had asked her for an appointment with Augustus Rookwood, the Head of the _Analytical Bureau of Investigation_. Lily was certain that the receptionist had realized that her entry-pass was a hoax, and that her real name wasn't Olivia McKinnon. Perhaps she'd seen Lily's photograph in one of the magazines, or perhaps she'd thought that Lily was a nosy reporter in disguise….. Rita Skeeter must have scarred her for life!

It hadn't helped either that Augustus had not wished to meet anyone by the name of Olivia McKinnon; he was much too busy to be pestered by Trainee Healers of St. Mungo's. It was only when she'd told the receptionist that she'd brought a very important message from 'Lily Evans' that Augustus had agreed to meet her.

Even though Lily was sure that Augustus had seen through her alias at once, she was inwardly very nervous. What if Augustus didn't like her poking her nose into the Ministry's top-secret matters? What if he didn't help her? What if--

"Hello, Lily," said Augustus, and Lily turned to look behind her at an extremely handsome and tall man dressed in silver-blue robes. His dark brooding eyes looked as haunting as ever, his long brown hair was gelled back into a sleek ponytail, and the roguish smile on his face sent a delightful shiver through her spine.

"Augustus," she said in a breathy voice that reminded her very much of Marka's joke on her. "I see that you are not surprised to see _me_ instead of _Olivia McKinnon_."

Augustus gave a laugh, and pulled her by the arm to himself.

"No other woman could have battled as long with my minx of a Secretary," said Augustus, bending to breathe in the scent of her hair.

They stood like that for a while, till Lily gently extricated herself from his arms. She did not fail to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"I'm here strictly on business, Augustus," she said in an apologetic tone.

"Ah, yes! That's the problem," said Augustus, sitting down in the chair opposite to her. "You're always thinking about that business of yours. I swear I'll grow jealous of it one day."

"Augustus," she chided.

"Oh, never mind me," he said, smiling. "I'm just a lovesick old fool, wondering whether you'll allow me to kiss you for the first time on our fifteenth date, perhaps. What do you think? Or would even the fifteenth date be too soon?"

Lily's face went a brilliant crimson. Trust Augustus to raise the topic of their relationship every time they met. They'd not yet kissed, though they'd gone out many times. But most of these dates had been to business-parties and public balls, and she could hardly be expected to kiss him in front of ten thousand eyes and four hundred cameras. Lily had had a phobia to publicity ever since her father had taken her to a function of the _Foxglove Apothecaries_. And was it _her_ fault that old Mrs. Rookwood (for reasons best known only to her) had asked Lily to keep her relationship with Augustus a secret?

_Why did men make such a big issue of a kiss anyway? _

_Couldn't Augustus understand that she was not ready for such a relationship yet? That she wanted her kiss to be out of love and not out of a mere fancy for him?_

_Was she being too conservative for her times?_

"I see I've made you uncomfortable again," said Augustus. "I'm rather good at doing that, aren't I? Perhaps I can apologize by offering you the help you seek from me?"

It was not in the nature of Lily to act coy, or to be artful and manipulative. Naïve as she was in the matters of love, she did not press any re-assurances on Augustus, but cut straight to the point.

"I was hoping you could tell me something about the potion called _Morpheus's Mead_," she said.

When she looked up, Augustus's expression had changed. It was no longer open and inviting, but closed and clipped. It was circumstances like these that made Lily doubtful about her relationship with Augustus; she often found him far too reserved and mysterious for her tastes.

"How do you know about the potion?" asked Augustus in a cool voice.

"I run a potion-making company, Augustus," said Lily. "It's my business to know these things. I've read reports about it, in _Potoscio Paradoxa_---"

"What do you want to know about it? _Why_ do you want to know about it?" interrupted Augustus.

"I wish to develop a cure against it," said Lily quickly. "It could be the one golden opportunity for 'The Druid' to achieve my father's dream. And therefore, to be able to develop such a cure, I need information about the potion. Information regarding its ingredients, its effects, its sources, the sites of its proliferation…. "

"This is highly confidential information," said Augustus, taking a deep breath. "I could get into serious trouble, if news got out of my helping you."

Lily was quiet as she peered into Augustus's troubled face.

"However, that doesn't mean that I _won't_ help you," said Augustus, an odd light flitting about his face. He smiled softly at the wonder on Lily's face.

"There is an ancient poem, written by a Chinese witch named Mushika Tse Tung," said Augustus. "Mushika is believed to be the inventor of _Morpheus' Mead_ in the 17th century. Her poem is a sort of a riddle, and it talks of how she made both the potion and its cure, all by herself. I can give you the translated version of the poem, and you can try to crack the answers hidden between its lines. In this way, I'll neither be helping you, nor will I be refusing to help you. Good trick, is it not?"

"Have _you_ been able to decipher the poem?" asked Lily.

"My research-team has already cracked the first part, which speaks of how the potion was made," said Augustus. "We still have to decipher the second part of the poem, which speaks of a possible cure. The first part is fairly easy to understand, which is how so many bottles of _Morpheus's Mead_ have been fabricated by the Dark forces…. But the part about the cure is extremely complicated and twisted. That's why the cure hasn't been developed yet."

"And you'll give me that poem?" asked Lily, still doubtful of Augustus's intentions. She had a feeling that he had something more on his mind.

"There is a condition attached, of course, as I'm sure you've already guessed…. I'll give you the poem," said Augustus, "if you promise to _kiss_ me on my upcoming 23rd birthday party, in front of all my guests."

Lily stared at him. His look of very obvious desire was not lost on her this time.

"But…but…" she began, "Mrs. Rookwood thinks that such an open-ness might affect your career. After all, you are an _Unspeakable_, and any affairs of the Unspeakables must be kept a secret. And if I kiss you on your _birthday_---"

"--It will be the best birthday of my life," completed Augustus. "Lily, I'm very serious about this relationship, I feel it's the one good thing that I've done in this life. Yet somehow, I feel as though _you're _not as serious about it as_ I_ am—"

"But I am!" protested Lily, even though she knew he was speaking the truth.

"Then this is your chance to prove it," said Augustus firmly. "What are you afraid of? Are you afraid of the world, that the world will say you could have chosen better?"

"I'm afraid they will call me a gold-digger," said Lily quietly. "I'm afraid they will say that _you_ could have chosen better."

"I want the world to know that you belong to me," said Augustus, taking her hand in his own. "Come _on_, Lily. Don't think about what Mother says; she worries far too much…. Do what your heart tells you. Let the world know that we're together, now. Let the whole world know that we're in love with each other. Prove to me that you are sincere in your love for me…. "

_But I'm _not_ in love with you,_ thought Lily.

"…. And I'll give you that poem," said Augustus.

…

…

…

The deal was signed, sealed and delivered.

* * *


	6. Illusion

_**ILLUSION**_

* * *

"Prongs, mate, you won't believe it!" cried Sirius Black, clutching his best friend's arm like an excited eight-year old. "There's a muggle hospitalized on the third floor for treatment of Unanticipated Curses. Isn't that wonderful?"

"I don't see what's so wonderful about a poor old muggle being locked up in a hospital full of grumpy Healers and strange smells," said his friend, frowning.

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. "I'm not saying that I'm happy about a muggle being injured, James. You _know_ that. It's just that I've always wanted to talk to a muggle, perhaps invite his family to dinner or something…."

James Potter snorted loudly. "Sirius," he said, "I always knew that you would lose your sanity one day, working as Junior Assistant in the Department of Muggle Relations. My friend, you are diseased, the disease of _muggle-o-mania_, as Moony calls it."

Sirius pretended temporary deafness, by looking at his goblin-crafted wrist watch four times in a row. Finally, when he could not bear James's smirks any longer, he decided to change tactics.

"Whatever, Prongs," said Sirius. "But do me a favour. Why don't you hop ahead on your own a bit, and give Moony my greetings. I'll join you guys in a bit."

"You're going to visit that ruddy old muggle, are you not?" asked James, shaking a long accusatory finger at him.

"Better a muggle than a werewolf," said Sirius jokingly, but James gave him a stern glance.

"How many time have I—"" began James

"Relax, mate," said Sirius. "Nobody here knows that Remus Lupin, our beloved Moony, is a werewolf."

"And I would prefer it to remain that way," snapped James. But James might as well have been talking to a wall, because whenever Sirius Black had a bout of muggle-o-mania, he became perfectly impervious to all sense.

James watched Sirius leave with some irritation. Now he would have to find Moony's ward all by himself, and it was no easy task. Werewolves were always secluded in the furthest, most obscure corners of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, especially those who did not have too many rich connections.

He noted with some amusement the way all the female Healers and passers-by in the vicinity were eyeing him and Sirius with adoring, simpering smiles. Sirius's good looks and his own wealth worked like an irresistible magnet for women alright. Women! They were the same everywhere.

James could barely remember all the photographs of marriageable women he'd been shown by his aunt. His aunt had sent him to various "business" parties and balls, in the hope that he would pick some girl there out of the blue and marry her. Sure, the girls in the photographs and at the parties were pretty and rich, and maybe, some of them were even sensible enough. But they lacked the fire, that spirit, the will power that James wanted to find in them. So far, he had been utterly disappointed.

James did not believe in judging a person based on his outer appearance; he gave more importance to the inner beauty of the soul. The kind of beauty that women—fair-weather friends--did not possess. They only ran after money and glamour. The moment youth and wealth are over, women flee away. Weren't all his aunts and cousins testimony to that? Humph. The Potter family had been nothing but a series of business alliances in the disguise of marriages. And James did not wish to turn his life into a monetary scheme.

The silly magazines talked of his falling in love with a new girl every other month….As if two people could fall in love with each other in such a short time! No. It would take _years_ to know a person well enough to love her, and accept all her flaws…. And when it came to women, James could see nothing_ but _flaws. Sirius called him hard to please, perhaps he was. So what? At least he wasn't foolish enough to fall in love at first sight! Love at first sight was only fit for women's gossip magazines and his Aunt Virginia's romance novels.

"_Ooof!" _

Lost in his thoughts, James had just bumped into a hapless passer-by, and had toppled to the floor in an entangled mass of limbs and shattered glass-phials. It was a complete mess, to say the least.

A fresh scent of peppermint pervaded his consciousness, and his tired eyes popped open with a newly discovered zeal. Large doe-like eyes peered into his hazel ones with concern, and he found himself swallowing several times.

It had all happened in the matter of a second. His throat had gone completely dry, his palms were wet and clammy with perspiration, and all his hairs were standing on one end. The room around him was a foggy spiraling haze; he felt so dizzy that he was afraid he was going to faint. _What was happening to him? _

"Are you alright?" the woman in front of him asked, and something quivered in his heart. Her voice…. He knew it was a voice that would be imprinted upon his memory forever, indelible, till the day he breathed his last.

He watched her stunned, like a man hypnotized. This new strange emotion sprouting in his heart was terrifying, to say the least. He did not like it; it somehow made him feel weak and vulnerable…. A situation that he had never encountered before.

The girl was indeed beautiful, an observation that amazed James, because he'd never considered himself partial to the beauty of women. She had the most immaculately sculpted face, chiseled to an outstanding perfection. The delicate slope of her nose, the luscious pout of her lips, the porcelain of her cheeks; he had never been so enamoured by a face before. Her emerald green eyes had an exotic look that gave her the appearance of a wood-nymph. Her hair, a dark titian, almost brown, was of the same rich red colour that his mother used to have. It seemed almost like a sacrilege to rest his eyes on something so beautiful.

Who was she? _What _was she?

No. No. No. It wasn't possible. This was nothing but an illusion. Such beauty couldn't possibly be meant for mortals. Such beauty couldn't possibly transcend into reality. It was all a figment of his hyper-active imagination.

But the next moment, she touched his arm, and he recoiled as if she had burnt him.

"I'm f-f-f-fine," he stammered, not daring to look at her again, lest he did something foolish.

It was obvious that she did not believe him, for her divine eyes seemed to say that she was uncertain of his sanity.

He felt a hot prick of shame, and flushed to the roots of his messy black hair. Why was she having such an eerie effect on him? Despair at his own prattish-ness in the presence of such perfection…. turned into a boiling rage at her for making him lose his self-control.

"I'd have been better if you hadn't bumped into me, clumsy clod that you are," he spat at her. "Why don't you watch where you're walking; are you blind, you stupid maggot? Or perhaps I should buy you a crutch?"

The woman gasped at him. Why, he had to be the rudest, most insolent man on earth! No one had _ever_ dared to talk to her that way. The tiger in her rose to meet the challenge.

"I hate to say this, but you're the one who needs eyes here," said she heatedly. "Not only have you smashed my bottles of _very_ costly medicine, you've also---You're James Potter, are you not?"

The sudden sound of his name from her lips was nectar to his ears. Could she please repeat it one more time?

"And what if I am?" he said, with darkened eyes.

"Then you're as arrogant and conceited as I've always imagined you to be," she said, her green eyes flashing fire.

Such an insult from any other person would have been unpardonable…. But all that James could think of was the unmistakable realization that her anger was a fascinating turn-on for him. He felt more and more ridiculous by the second. Even her insults were endearing!

"Are you a Healer here?" he asked her immediately upon seeing the identity-card pinned to her lime-green robes. _Olivia McKinnon_, it read. _Olivia_….Somehow, that wasn't the name he had in mind for her. It was far too bold….for someone as delicate as her.

She'd seen him eyeing her card, perhaps, for she quickly plucked off the card, and tossed it into her pocket, looking uneasy for the first time. _So she wasn't as unafraid of him as she pretended._

"Answer me," he said imperiously, as if he had a right over her. "Are you a Healer here?"

"Why? Going to have me fired? Is that what you have in mind?" she snapped at him, and he felt even happier than before. What was _wrong_ with him?

"James?"

James turned to see Sirius standing behind him, a perplexed look upon his handsome face.

"One minute, Padfoot!" he said impatiently, and he turned around to face the girl again.

She was gone.

For a moment, he felt as if the ground had slipped from beneath his feet. He felt a sudden fear engulfing him. He felt as if he had lost something very dear to him; what else could explain the unfamiliar emptiness within him?

"Where did she go?" he rasped out, striding amok here and there, like a madman, searching for her desperately.

"Who?" asked Sirius, flabbergasted.

"The girl I was talking to!" cried James, who was now opening one door after another, in return getting many angry abuses from the patients he had disturbed.

"I dunno, mate," said Sirius, scratching his chin. He could not understand why James was suddenly so interested in a girl. Why, James seemed almost frantic with worry! A trait that was most unlike James Potter.

"Are you alright, Prongs?" enquired Sirius anxiously.

"I'm FINE!" shouted James, his face red with tension. "I wish people would stop asking me that STUPID QUESTION!"

By now, Sirius had realized that this was nothing short of an emergency. He had never seen James so frazzled before in the ten years of knowing him.

"Relax, James," said Sirius. "Don't get your broomsticks in a twist! Tell me what's wrong. What did the girl do? Did she steal something of yours?"

_What had she done to him? _James suspected it was Dark Magic. Nothing else could have had such an absurd effect on him!

"She…She…is a Dark Witch!" he cried, not caring whether he made sense or not. "She crashed into me while I was on my way to Remus's ward, and she mumbled some strange words as if she was hexing me….I think she's cursed me! I can't think straight!"

Had it not been James Potter—a person who had never shown the least signs of insanity---Sirius would have probably laughed outright and handed the poor devil to a mental asylum. But since it was James….

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I want to see the Healer named Olivia McKinnon!" James barked at Head Healer Smythe, and pounded an angry fist repeatedly against the massive oak desk. The ink-bottle rolled over, and smashed into pieces.

Sirius tried to pretend that he did not know James Potter; he really wished he didn't. James was embarrassing him now.

"She'll be here in a moment, Sir Potter," said the trembling Smythe, looking as if he would puke any moment now. Sirius heartily sympathized with him.

"You've been saying that for the _last fifteen minutes_," growled James, and Smythe retreated further into his chair.

"Sir Potter," said Smythe. "The Herbology Department is two blocks away, and as we cannot Apparate into St. Mungo's….It is a long distance to cover, Mr. Potter, Sir."

James merely grunted.

"May I take the liberty of saying that Miss Olivia McKinnon is an exceptionally talented Trainee Healer, Sir?" said Smythe, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The Ministry would lose a lot by losing her….She cannot possibly have---"

A sharp knock at the door caused Smythe to rise to his feet and usher in Olivia McKinnon.

The girl that stood in front of Sirius Black did not have a single trace of Dark Magic about her. She had dark hair that barely covered her ears, and her spectacles revealed innocent blue eyes. Her jaw was ruthlessly rigid, and there was a certain no-nonsense look about her intelligent face that made it impossible to believe that she dealt in Voodoo.

"Who are you?" asked James Potter, still looking grumpy and sullen.

"I'm Trainee Healer Olivia McKinnon," said the girl, with a defiant toss of her chin.

Sirius watched with interest as James's frown deepened, and his anger receded into something that seemed suspiciously like regret.

"Are you the only Olivia McKinnon working at St. Mungo's?" asked James, his voice back at its usual cold baritone.

"Yes," she said in an equally cold voice. "My name is rather unusual, not everyone has it. The McKinnons are fairly well-known people; and we've met on several occasions, _Mr. James Potter_, if you can pressure your memory a bit. I'm Chief Auror Marlene McKinnon's younger sister. Apparently you have mistaken me for someone else."

"Apparently," responded James. Sirius had to bite back a laugh to see James look so abashed.

At this point, James found himself incapable of further speech, so he withdrew from the room, without another word. Sirius followed him quietly, giving James the silence that he wanted.

But Sirius knew by then that the silence was merely the beginning of a storm.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

* * *

**Alright, then. I give you the liberty to flame my rather cliched fanfic... As long as you leave a review. Hint. Hint. DrF gives you a large sheepish goofy grin here. Hope you won't disappoint her!**

* * *


	7. Trapped

**_TRAPPED_**

* * *

Flat Number 25 A/C of Bayberry Apartments was not the flat of a rich man. It was an old dilapidated flat, whose walls were damp and chipped at all places and which had only one window looking down at the busy market-place below. 

The furniture in the living room was of the cheapest kind, mere cane chairs, a loveseat and a single wooden centre-table. The entire place was littered with books and magazines, and the bed in the tiny adjoining room was squeaky and dangerously tottering on its weak legs.

Flat Number 25 A/C of Bayberry Apartments was the flat of Lily Cecilia Evans.

A tabby cat sitting by the stove perked up its ears when he heard a tiny 'pop' in the doorway. He swatted a fly angrily, and decided to give his mistress a piece of his mind.

_How dare she come home at two in the morning! Didn't she have any_ bloody _sense of time?_

The cat's anger at his mistress evaporated at once, however, when his mistress lovingly cradled him into her arms and kissed him on his glossy black head.

"Good morning, Sebastian," said Lily, as he licked her hand. "I'm sorry I'm late tonight—"

_Tonight and every other night_, thought Sebastian wryly.

"—But there was such an awful load of work at 'The Druid', you know. Did you have your meal, hmm? You lazy Puss-in-Boots!"

Sebastian purred at her, and curled up in her warm lap, as she sat down on the loveseat.

"I had my dinner with Marlene today," said Lily, stroking his fur. "She and Sturgis Podmore have just got engaged. She was so ecstatic! I'm so happy for her, Sebastian. Dark times like these, and love is all that can keep you from drowning…."

She looked at her father's portrait on the wall opposite her. He had the same striking green eyes as hers, his forehead was the same, and she knew she had inherited his unflinching (and often foolish) trust in others, too.

Ten long years, and she could still remember and love him as if he had died but yesterday.

The loud rapping of the knocker snapped her out of her sad reveries. Who could possibly be visiting her at a time like this? At 2 a.m. in the morning?

"Hurry, up, Lily," said a gruff, booming voice outside the door, while Lily was still in a flux about her visitor. "We haven't got all day."

Lily didn't need to be told who her two visitors were. She had recognized his voice immediately. She unbolted the door to look into the blue eyes of her sister Petunia and the beady eyes of her brother-in-law Vernon Dursley.

"Hello, Lily," said Petunia, her bony shoulders hunched together. "We hope you don't mind us calling at such a time, but we couldn't risk being seen by any of our muggle neighbours. You know how they would gossip if news got out that my sister is a witch!"

The two of them were peeling off their robes and cloaks, and looking apprehensively around Lily's flat. The two squibs looked like burglars.

"I'm sure you know the purpose of our visit," said Vernon, biting freely into the apple that Lily had set out for herself.

Yes, Lily knew the purpose of their visit. It was the only reason why they still allowed her to be related to them. You see, the Dursleys used to collect a tribute from Lily every month from her the earnings of her firm 'The Druid'. This tribute was not a homage to the Dursleys, oh no, but it was the price Lily had to pay in order to be able to still call Petunia her 'sister'. Vernon had made it quite clear that if Lily wanted to maintain her connection with her sister, she would have to give them a part of her monthly earnings.

"Is that all for this month?" asked Vernon sourly as he tossed the small bag of galleons in his large, burly hands.

"I'm afraid so," said Lily. "I need the rest for the completion of a foreign project offered to us."

"And what is the project about?" asked Vernon.

"It's for developing a cure for sea-sickness," Lily lied quickly. She couldn't risk telling Vernon about Morpheus's Mead; he'd completely explode.

"You freaks get freakier every day," said Vernon, with a sneer that would have shamed Lucius Malfoy.

Lily thought it was a bit unfair of Vernon to call her a freak, when his own parents had been freaks' too. But then she remembered Uncle Gilbert telling her that Vernon was just bitter…. Bitter that he was born a squib, and not a wizard himself.

Funny that Vernon's apparent disgust of the wizarding world did not stretch to a pile of galleons.

"This is 30 per cent short of your last month's earnings," said Vernon, pointing at the bag in his hand.

50 per cent shorter, O' Mathematics Genius, thought Lily sarcastically.

"She told you already, Vernon, darling," said Petunia. "Lily needs the funds for her foreign consignment."

Lily felt a rush of gratitude towards her sister. Lily often had the feeling that Petunia's studied indifference towards her was rather the work of Vernon's dictatorship, rather than her own jealousy towards her. Deep down, Petunia still loved Lily as much as Lily loved her.

Vernon grunted.

"You have a very small flat here," said Vernon with very obvious derision. "It seems you're not a very gifted witch, if your earnings can't even afford a decent house!"

Lily suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her house!

"I think you should be leaving now," said Lily decisively, rising up and pulling the door ajar. "It is 2 a.m. of the morning and I've not had a wink of sleep since four days. Besides, you should not risk being seen in the company of the likes of me."

"Too right, you are," said Vernon roughly, but Lily could not help noticing the affectionate concern in Petunia's eyes. "We'll be back for our dues next month, so make sure that the shortage this month is covered."

Needless to add, Lily was not sorry to get rid of them.

* * *

Lily woke up every morning to the strange sensation of feeling—there was no other word for it—_trapped_. 

Yes. She felt trapped in this three-room flat with its single French window and her pyramid of books. She had often had dreams of being a rabbit lost in a tunnel, fighting to get out of its burrow, fighting to escape the clutches of a python. She could not understand the underlying meaning of such dreams.

The last two years had been a rat race for power. Meeting the potion-dealers, advertising her firm relentlessly, hunting for new medicines to make, recruiting and training potioneers all over the country, fighting to get an appointment with the big shots….

She felt like a woman on a warpath, sacrificing night-after-night to the accomplishment of her father's dream. She had no personal life to boast of.

She was pretty and over eighteen, yet her first date had been with Augustus Rookwood barely three months ago. She had numerous friends, but no one had ever really understood her. _Not even Marlene_, she thought sadly. Marlene only liked to talk about her own problems; she never cared to know about Lily's difficulties. Why, she didn't even know where Lily lived or that Lily had a sister! _I may be Marlene's best friend, but Marlene isn't mine._

Perhaps she wanted too much from relationships. She wanted unrestrained open-ness and intensity; she had a hunger to be loved, a hunger that was insatiable, yet a hunger that could never be appeased.

_Perhaps I'm not meant for love_, she consoled herself.

Oh well. At least she had a chance with Augustus.

_If only he wasn't so mysterious sometimes…._

She had not even finished her tea when there was a knock at the door again. The second visitor that morning….

She felt extremely grumpy as she opened the door to usher in her guests.

_Speak of the devil._

"Why, Mrs. Rookwood! And Ursula too…. What a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed. "Do come in."

"How are you my dear?" asked Augustus's mother, kissing Lily affectionately. "And how is dear Sebastian? Ursula, darling, you've not met Lily's cat, have you?"

Ursula lowered her haunting eyes (so like her brother's) to view the cat entangled between Lily's legs. "Come here, Pussy. Come to Ursula," she said in a voice devoid of all emotion. But Ursula was in for a disappointment, because Sebastian hissed at her and pranced away.

"Ursula would like to talk to Sebastian," said Augustus's queer sister, her dark eyes curiously malicious, as they met Lily's vibrant green eyes. "Alone."

"Certainly," said Lily courteously. "I'm sure Sebastian and you will become the best of buddies."

Mrs. Athena Rookwood sighed as she watched her daughter stride after Sebastian.

"I don't know what to do with that girl," she said. "She frightens me sometimes. Even the Healers at St. Mungo's have given up on her. They can't work out why her behaviour is so odd…. She wasn't always like this, my Ursula. Why, she was the sweetest, gentlest girl you could know…When—You went to Beauxbatons, didn't you Lily?"

Lily acquiesced with a nod of her head.

"Ursula went to Hogwarts," said Mrs. Rookwood. "And you know, Lily, she was always the brightest girl in her class; she was the Head Girl at Hogwarts in her time. She was the favourite of her classmates. She represented her school in various art-contests, and Wizardry Olympiads…."

"What went wrong?" asked Lily, intrigued.

"She'd gone to Bulgaria during the summer holidays two years ago, with her friends," said Mrs. Rookwood. "She returned a completely changed person. She wouldn't tell us what happened there, but she'd just sit in the dark in silence, for hours, and she'd sing in some strange language."

"And you have no suspicions or clues as to what might have happened to her in Bulgaria?" asked Lily.

"None at all," said Mrs. Rookwood, "but I have noticed something…since then…. You see, I think Ursula might have lately developed a fancy for James Potter."

Lily's heartbeat quickened manifold. "James Potter?" she repeated.

"Yes," said Mrs. Rookwood. "She has a biography of his, and she keeps reading it, day in and day out. She also keeps his photograph upon her dressing-table. Now, ordinarily, I would not have had a problem with Ursula fancying a boy. But this is _James Potter_ we're talking about! The boy who changes girlfriends like clothes, the boy who has no respect for authority, and no sense of commitment…. And you're aware that the Potters and Rookwoods have never really gotten along."

"Augustus told me that you're thinking of sending Ursula to New Zealand, for a holiday?" said Lily, when the uncomfortable silence had stretched on longer than necessary.

"Ah, yes, I thought it would make a nice change for my daughter, better than strolling in the garden and partying like a pixie at least... But that reminds me," said Mrs. Rookwood. "As I'm sure you already know, we're throwing a grand party for Augustus's 23rd birthday, the age at which he becomes owner of all the Rookwood property. And I'd like you to join us on this _very_ auspicious day."

"Of course," said Lily, smiling, though her blood ran cold as she recalled her promise to Augustus.

"Good!" said Mrs. Rookwood with heartfelt satisfaction. "Here's the invitation-card, you must bring it on the evening of the party."

"Ursula wants to go home, Mother," said the strange girl, now holding a sleeping Sebastian in her arms. "Ursula wants to take Sebastian with her."

Mrs. Rookwood's grey eyes sought sanction from Lily.

"Of course. Sebastian seems to have become very fond of you," said Lily, even though she didn't want Sebastian to leave her sight. She didn't want to refuse the request of a mother who had donated most generously to the cause of 'The Druid'.

"You're very nice, Lily," said Ursula, the ghost of a smile about her lips. "Ursula likes you. No other girl would have allowed a complete stranger to take away her only companion. Ursula is so very sorry that you'll be lonely without him, but Ursula must have Sebastian, or her heart will _ache_."

* * *

Later, when Lily was dressing up for her meeting with Ali Bashir, she thought of Ursula's strange smile and of Mrs. Rookwood's grimace, and she felt a shudder shake her body.

* * *

X-X-X-X-X 

X-X-X-X-X

* * *

**Hey, all of you there. I'm starved. For that tasty dish called a REVIEW:P**


End file.
